


Complete The Story Entries

by Kumarie5



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Bunch Of Shit, Don't Try Me Hoe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hetalia, I Don't Even Know, Lots Of xReaders, M/M, Multi, Other, Voltron, i am trash, jUST COMPLETE CHAOS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumarie5/pseuds/Kumarie5
Summary: I take starters from my (handy-dandy) journal, add to the story, and wala! There you go.





	1. Languages (Hetalia)

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the chaos, kittens.

There were so many languages flowing through your house when you were growing up-Russian Ukrainian, Belorussian- it was like a rich farmland fed by many rivers. Each had its own rhythm, its own music. Russian made you imagine a field of sunflowers, going on forever, yet you were unable to grasp them. Like vodka raining down on a frozen tundra. Like graceful ballerinas leaping and twirling through the soft white snow. You can see all the Russian dancers leaping and dancing for crowds of people everywhere, you can taste the borscht and pirozhki, their unique tastes tickling your sensitive tongue. You hear the sounds of families coming together to celebrate День России Den Rossii and you hear the laughter, like jingling bells coming from the children rushing past you. However, it could also feel like frostbite nipping at your skin, being a couple steps away from a warm home full of people, but being unable to move your feet and eventually your vision turns black as you are devoured by the numbing temperatures and loneliness.

Ukrainian was another story, the way the language and sounds rolled off your tongue was similar to the way a mother would sing sweet lullabies to calm a frightened child during a thunderstorm. It was like the comforting warmth of the hot chocolate your mother made trickling down your throat after playing out in the snow on a cold winter's day. The language feels like family, kindness, and home. You can taste the sweetness of a traditional Pampushka lingering on your tongue. But the honey-sweet language could also sound heartbreaking. Like the sound of a young girl's voice cracking, right before she is reduced to tears. Or like the sound of rain pouring down, somehow timing just right, and soaking a bullied Preschooler on his way home. Similar to the hopeless noises coming from a girl being devoured by self-hate. A girl who has lost her family to time and fate.

Belorussian had always been a mystery to you. Sometimes it sounded like a ruthless man, destroying anything in the way of his goal. Other times, you felt like you had heard something similar to the sound of a young woman sobbing and screaming for help, a woman with a pure heart, but whom is greatly misunderstood. Only a few times have you heard happiness in the language. Sounding like a girl whom is truly happy, laughing with her friends, and just being who she is. Most of the time, it sounds like the miserable cries of a girl who just wants to love and be loved in return, but has been deemed unlovable. A girl in chains, forced into a destiny she does not want, but must follow. Sometimes, you can taste the uniqueness of the poliŭka, your stomach feeling empty after you finish eating, leaving you wanting more of the Belorussian soup. When you speak the language, you feel stronger and every now and then you feel warmth wash over you. The sort of warmth that makes you feel protected and safe. The kind of warmth that allows you to rest easy, knowing you'll be protected even on the darkest of nights.

However, all the languages are similar in one way to her. They all sound like a single tear, gathering, and finally dropping from a man's eye as he mourns over something- someone- that was lost, many, many centuries before.


	2. The Driveway (Hetalia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Russia/Matthew'slittlesister!Sad!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first attempt at any sort of fluff whatsoever- please give me constructive comments because I am trash and this is probably triggering and somewhat cringy.

She was always up at the window, waiting for the car to pull into the driveway. I know she just wants to see her father. But what she doesn't realize is Francis is dead, killed by a man who goes by the name Arthur. However, she waits. And waits. And waits. She waits so much it seems as if her eyes never leave the driveway.

I sometimes see her older brother, Matthew, or Matvey as I call him, trying to unsuccessfully coax her away from the window.

I've never seen her move from her spot at the window, nor do anything else. But somehow, I fell in love with the (H/c) at the window. As I watch her, I not only do so, but I look at her. I look at the way her soft (h/l)(h/c) hair frames her soft-featured face. I look at the way her hands lay in her lap, her delicate (s/c) fingers intertwined with each other. I look at the way her chest barely moves up and down as she breaths, the only movement I ever see her make besides blinking. I can only think of one word to describe her. Perfect. No matter what she thinks, I know she is perfect.

Everyday I'd sit and stare at her from my window, watching her unblinking gaze. On Wednesday, however, she'd lock eyes with me. Wednesday was the day her father had promised to be back. The entire day, we'd look into each other's eyes. I always studied her hollow, yet sorrowful, (E/c) orbs with my own amethyst purple ones.

One night, however, she turned to look at me. Her pale lifeless face almost glowing in the moonlight. She stared at me, and all of a sudden, a tear fell from her eyes. And then another. And another. And another. A few minutes, and she had started sobbing. I felt my heart shatter as I opened my own window and jumped out into the night. Her room was on the second floor, but I saw no problem as I jumped onto the windowsill of the window below hers and pulled myself up. I picked the (h/c) up and placed her on my lap, finally realizing how truly weightless the girl was. I heard a small gasp as she uncovered her puffy red eyes. My heart ached seeing her in this condition and I hugged her close to my chest as she resumed her cries. I ran my fingers through her (h/c) locks and whispered sweet nothings to her in Russian. After a bit she seemed to calm down, and she pushed her face away from my tearstained coat to look into my eyes. I smiled softly at her and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I-I miss him, my p-papa..." She murmured, her beautiful (e/c) orbs reflecting her heartstring-pulling sadness. I hummed, pressing my lips to her forehead.

"I know, подсолнечник." I whispered, nuzzling into her hair. We sat like that for a while, until I heard her breath even out and become more peaceful, notifying me that she had fallen into a deep slumber. I smiled and carried her over to her king-sized (f/c) bed and tucking her in. As I turned to exit through her window, I felt a soft hand grasp my own.

"Please don't leave me alone....." She pleaded, half-asleep. I smiled softly and took off my gloves, scarf, and coat. I sat down on her bed and pulled off my boots, before climbing under the covers and having her snuggle up to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her petite waist and placed my chin on her head before drifting off into dreamland...


	3. Him (Any fandom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't change his past,  
> But I can brighten his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really for any fandom because the insert's name isn't said except for the fact that he's a boy so this is probably a Any!Male!Charater!xMulti!Boy!Or!Girl!Reader!

He had this way of making you forget your troubles-as if the day was a blank page, wide open, and anything was possible. It was a marvel, because he'd had such a difficult life himself. As a child he was exposed to starvation, abuse, death, war, and tyranny. Yet he amazes those who know about his past by smiling all day, everyday. By being happy and facing everything with a smile. Even now, as I enter the meeting room, he suffers with a smile. I walk over to him and look him right in his beautiful orbs, before embracing him.

I can't change his past,  
But I can brighten his future.


	4. My Best Friend (Voltron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had always felt nice to be apart of something. But I know, even if it has never been said aloud, that it's not the same. I know that in my heart, I can never fully heal his broken family. All I can do is be the person my best friend was to his family. A protector, someone to lean on, a piece of joy, but most of all, a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess you could say that this is a Missing!Surprise(But pretty obvious)!Paladin!xBestfriend!Male!Or!Female!Reader oneshot. Basically what happens after the paladin 'goes missing in space' to said paladin's family and (other besides Hunk) childhood friend, Reader-chan. I hope you like it! This is my first Voltron fic, by the way. Enjoy the chaos, kittens!

The waves rise and fall and crash in a gentle rhythm, and I can almost forget. I get to his house, turn around, and my footsteps are already gone. I like that. But there are certain things you can't erase, like the memories of your best friend, who suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. Literally. I started living with his family after he disappeared. I moved in when I finished collage a few years later. I helped take care of his younger siblings and cousins. I'm still helping, even now, as I write down these words, cooking dinner with his madre. I take care of his grandparents and help with everything I can. I can tell they appreciate my efforts and fully accept me into their large warm family. Something foreign to me, a person who was orphaned by their family at the age of four and forced to survive on the streets, until I was allowed to go to school by a kind man who gave me enough money to help me survive until sixteen, by that time I had met my best friend and his family, who helped to support me. It had always felt nice to be apart of something. But I know, even if it has never been said aloud, that it's not the same. I know that in my heart, I can never fully heal his broken family. All I can do is be the person my best friend was to his family. A protector, someone to lean on, a piece of joy, but most of all, a friend. I know it's what he'd want me to do. He always told me, when we had our few serious chats, that if anything were to happen to him, he wanted me to take care of his family. I promised him sincerely every time, even though I was sure nothing would happen to him. But, I guess fate had other plans for him.

.

.

.

I sigh as I finish writing in my journal. His mother calling me to the dining room to eat with her and the rest of his wonderful family.

"Just a minute, Madre!" I reply, calling her what she had requested since the first time he introduced me to his family. I close my journal and lock it, before placing it in a hidden crack, where I am positive no one will ever find it, before dropping the key into my pocket. As I turn to exit the kitchen, My eyes lock on the window. I shuffle over to it and look outside, into the starry night sky. As a shooting star flashes through my vision, I make a single, bittersweet wish.

.

.

.

'Please come home, Lance.'


	5. The Non-Stop Bakery (2p!talia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The once loving and sweet man is now broken. Oliver is broken. Oliver is broken. Oliver is broken. Oliver is broken and I feel useless because I can't do anything for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Broken!2p!EnglandxGenderneutral!Reader in a way, I guess. Please kill me now. I am a terrible human being for writing this.

As a boy his eyes were round and the clearest blue, like a sky with no clouds. He had hope running through his veins. I remember how he used to spend his entire weekend baking all sorts of sweets and treats like it was nobody's business. Of course, now he does it for a living but, he rarely does anything else anymore. It's always about baking and experimenting. He never comes out of his bakery to do the other things he used to love. Like attending parties and visiting the animals at the local animal shelter and petting zoo. He refuses to come to lunch with me anymore and I've had to help him with everything outside of the bakery. I basically live at his house now. His house. Right. His void-of-any-sign-of-life-house. Well, except for Cupcake. His cat. And my only companion in this large once-lively house. I'm the only one taking care of this place and the animal living in it now. I make sure to chase away the dust bunnies and pay all the bills. I tend to avoid their rooms, however. Who are they? They were his family. His younger brother, Allen, His best friend, Francois, and Francois' younger brother, James. The four had been together since long before I had met Oliver. But now, they're all gone. Oliver won't tell me why. In fact, he doesn't even acknowledge me anymore. But, from the few times I did take a short glance around their rooms, to me it looks like they just....... left.

Allen's room, like James' room, is generally empty of all his clothes. His favourite bat is gone, as well as his vegan cookbook. His favourite books are gone and the few pictures he had hanging up have vanished.

In James' room, all of his clothes are gone, as well as all of his hockey themed items. His hockey stick and his shotgun are missing and all of his personal items like books and pictures have disappeared as well.

Francois is a different story, however. To me, it looks as if he were the only one in a rush, because most of his clothes are still present and folded in the drawers, and the personal items are mostly either broken or missing. Picture frames are shattered and glass and blood has scattered all over the floor. Knives have been stuck in the wall on the far side of the room, a few droplets of dried blood splattered around them here and there, and there are a few bullet holes in the wall on the opposite side of the room, outlined with a thin layer of dried blood.

To be honest, I think Oliver and Francois had a huge fight. And truthfully, I think that's why Oliver is no longer that hopeful and happy boy I once knew. Why his eyes are no longer the clearest of blues, but instead, gray, like the thunderclouds covering the sky as the world below them floods with rainwater. Why his sweets taste like nothing. The cupcakes are either soggy or stale and the frosting is drippy and sticky, not at all how it used to be, cakes fluffy and frosting light and flavourful. Now, they are more like a small explosion of despair you feel resonating through your entire being and existence. The man himself is as thin as a twig, and he has the largest bags you've ever seen under his once joyful, blue eyes. His hair is dull and has a straw-like texture and he never smiles. 

The once loving and sweet man is now broken. 

Oliver is broken. 

Oliver is broken.

Oliver is broken.

Oliver is broken and I feel useless because I can't do anything for him.

I, (y/n), have done everything I can for him. 

.

.

But I know, Oliver will never mend, unless I can find his family and reunite them all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you this hurt me more than it hurt you.
> 
> (However I will be willing to make a sequel if it is requested. I can turn this into an angst with a happy ending if someone wanted me to.)


End file.
